Hinter's voice brought him back to himself. "He is blind, they tell me, Billy."
Billy gazed at him wonderingly. "How did you know I was thinkin' of him?" he asked.
Hinter smiled. "Never mind," he said gently. "And how is he standing it?"
A spasm of pain crossed the boy's face. "Like a man," he answered shortly.
Hinter's eyes fell away from that steady gaze. Billy turned towards the log-span across the creek, then paused to ask suddenly: "Mr. Hinter, who owns that Lost Man's Swamp? Do you?"
The man started. "No," he answered, "I don't own it exactly, but I hope to soon. It is part of the Scroggie property. I am negotiating now with Scroggie's heir for it. It is useless, of course, but I desire to own it for reasons known only to myself."
"But supposin' ol' Scroggie's lost will comes to light?"
"Then, of course, it will divert to Mr. Stanhope," answered Hinter. "I must confess," he added, "I doubt very strongly if Mr. Scroggie ever made a will."
Billy was silent, busy with his own thoughts. They crossed the bridge, passed through a beech ridge and descended a mossy slope to the Causeway fence. As they sat for a moment's rest on its topmost rail, Hinter spoke abruptly. "I saw you fighting your way across the swamp this afternoon, Billy. Weren't you taking a useless risk?"
Billy made no reply.